


easy as you call my name

by Suicix



Category: GOT7
Genre: Distance, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Kink Discovery, M/M, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 01:38:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: This isn’t what Jackson had been expecting when he proposed phone sex, but there’s a part of him that’s intrigued, that wants to explore this. That wants to do whatever Mark tells him.





	easy as you call my name

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be just like. fun and cute phone sex!! the d/s undertones and praise kink just sort of...... snuck in there and decided to be important. not that that can't be fun and/or cute i guess, but the fact of the matter is that it was supposed to be different. aaand i let this happen instead.

When you’ve spent most of the last three and a half years (longer than that, almost double that when you count the trainee period as well) living and working with the same people, some time apart should be a relief, should be refreshing. Sometimes it is. Sometimes, Jackson actually just wants to have some time that’s completely his and no-one else’s, and that’s hard to come by when you’re living in a dorm, even now that Jackson’s got his own room.

More often than not, though, when he’s abroad and totally alone with his thoughts, he misses Mark. He misses having someone beside him who makes everything feel so easy, misses having someone to hold him at night. These phone calls help. Jackson knows he might do most of the talking, but just hearing Mark’s voice – just knowing he’s listening – is enough.

Now, they ask each other how their respective days were: Jackson’s was busy, Mark’s was quiet. Jackson’s glad – Mark deserves to rest, to get as much sleep as he needs, to eat what he likes, to just sit and play games if he wants to. (And Mark will tell Jackson that he deserves to rest just as much, but every time he does, Jackson just says that all his hard work will be worth it, even if he’s exhausted at the end of it.)

He’s already told Mark that he misses him – already had those same words said to him in return – but there are other ways he misses Mark, too. Things he could very well sort out on his own, but he wants _Mark._ He wouldn’t call it _selfish,_ because it’s just as much about getting Mark off as it is about getting himself off, but if Mark doesn’t want it, then – well. He’ll be a bit disappointed, and he’ll show it. He’ll try not to, but he knows he will. Just a little.

“So, uh,” Jackson starts to say, knowing that this will be the easiest way to steer them towards where he wants to go – assuming that Mark wants it, too. “What are you wearing?”

Mark laughs at him. Actually full-on laughs at him, the sound of it erupting through the phone. Hearing it has Jackson smiling as well: making Mark laugh might even outweigh making him come as one of Jackson’s favourite things to do.

“Really?” Mark wonders when he stops laughing. Jackson can practically see Mark’s grin in his head, teeth shiny and eyes bright. “That’s what you lead with?”

“Hey, you knew what I was asking for,” Jackson retorts. There’s a pause for a beat. “Do you want to, then?”

“Sure.” Somehow, Mark’s voice seems deeper, more intense. Like he’s committing to the suggestion of sex. “To answer your first question, I’m in bed, so. You know me.”

Jackson does. He puts it together.

“So, nothing,” he says. “You’ve got a head start on me.” He’s pretty much ready for bed given that he washed and brushed his teeth before calling Mark, but he’s still in his shorts and muscle tee, comfortable clothes at the end of a long day. “Wish you could be the one to take these off for me, though.”

Another pause, this one a little less brief than the first. Jackson hears Mark hum, quiet and considering.

“Maybe I can,” says Mark. “Don’t – don’t take your clothes off until I say so.”

Jackson has to frown a little. This isn’t what he’d been expecting when he proposed phone sex, but there’s a part of him that’s intrigued, that wants to explore this. That wants to do whatever Mark tells him.

“OK.” Jackson takes a moment to breathe before continuing. “OK. I won’t.”

“Good.” Something about that – about the very word itself as well as the way Mark says it – makes Jackson’s heart race and yet makes him feel eerily calm all at once. “You can touch yourself over your clothes, though.”

It almost sounds like it’s a command – something Jackson _will_ do rather than just something he _can_ do – but there’s still an ounce of hesitance there as Mark says it. They’re just testing the waters with this, after all. Jackson still feels like he should try and make any doubts disappear, though.

He reaches down to where he’s starting to get hard in his shorts, palming at his cock through the fabric. After a moment or so, he increases the pressure, letting Mark hear it when he gasps at his own touch.

“Yeah,” Mark says, “that’s it. Are you still wearing a shirt, too?”

“Uh-huh.” Jackson’s other hand moves to his chest, his thumb rubbing circles over one nipple. He’s suddenly even more grateful to himself that he decided to plug earphones in to take this call.

“That’s good – touch yourself there, too.”

“Already on it.” Now, Jackson lets the hand on his crotch wander upwards, mirroring the one already on his chest.

“Good,” Mark repeats. Again, there’s something about being told that, even if it’s just one word, that means everything to Jackson. He’ll have to bring it up sometime after this – have to make sure that Mark knows how it makes him feel. “I know you like that.”

Even if Mark doesn’t know that yet, though, he knows how _this_ makes Jackson feel, knows him so, so well. Jackson carries on, occasionally stretching an arm back down so he can cup his dick, working his nipples until they’re both hard as well, the shape of them visible through the material. He’s about to tell Mark, about to ask what he should do, when–

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Jackson tells him. He tells him how much he wishes Mark was seeing him like this rather than just hearing him. How he’s thinking about Mark’s mouth on him, Mark’s lips on his and Mark’s teeth on his neck and Mark’s tongue on his skin. How hard this is getting him, how hard he bets Mark is because of him all the way over in Korea. How he wants Mark’s hands on him, too, but how at the same time, just the thought of them is enough for him to be able to get off because fuck, he loves them so much. He tells Mark all of that, and eventually – even though there’s so much more that Jackson feels like he could say – Mark seems satisfied.

“Take your top off,” he says, and Jackson pauses for a moment so he can do exactly that. His chest is flushed, and his nipples are more sensitive now that he’s actually touching skin, and he swears the touch sends a surge of heat rushing straight to his dick. If he was wearing jeans right now, he knows it’d be straining at the fabric, he’s so hard: the next time he reaches a hand down to it, he really can’t help the moan. “Take… I don’t know, whatever else you’re wearing off. I never got the chance to ask.”

“Just my shorts?” Jackson asks. “Or do you want me to get rid of my underwear as well?”

“Everything. It’s only fair, right?”

It is. Jackson works his shorts and boxers off his hips, down his legs, and off completely. They weren’t tight, but it’s still a relief, and he gets a hand on his cock. He doesn’t move it, just holds himself still. Waiting for Mark.

“So?” he wonders when Mark doesn’t speak for a moment. Usually, Mark’s not really one for dirty talk, for much talking during sex at all, but this requires it. Requires him to do more than that – to give orders, basically. “What do you want?”

“Um.” For the first time since they started, Mark sounds – not quite hesitant, but almost awkward, like the realisation of what they’re doing’s finally caught up to him. “What do _you_ want?”

“Not what this is about,” Jackson says, except it kind of is. It’s about both of them. “Whatever you tell me. Whatever you want from me. That’s what I want.”

“OK,” says Mark, more confident now – Jackson can hear the relieved smile in his voice. “Touch yourself?”

That’s just as easily done as it’s said. Jackson gets a rhythm going with the hand around his dick, not too fast to start off with.

“You as well, yeah?” Jackson wonders if maybe asking for that in return is out of line, but at the same time, if he makes it clear that this is what he wants, Mark should be more relaxed.

“Sure.” On the other end of the call, Mark moans, clearly following through with a hand on his cock. As good as this already is, Jackson wishes he could make Mark make that noise in person. There’s – not silence, because there’s still noise, but a wordless lull, and then – “I bet you look so good right now, babe. So good for me.” The next pause is shorter, but almost contemplative, like Mark’s thinking of something particular to say. “Can you see a mirror from where you are? Can you see yourself?”

Jackson turns his head, looking across to the mirror on his wall. He isn’t quite close enough to get a good look, but yeah, he can see himself – can see the sweat starting to shine on his skin and his hard cock in his hand and his shiny, spit-slick mouth.

“Yeah.” He knows he has to answer. “I wish you could see me as well, though. Wish I could see you.”

“Maybe I’ll send you a photo afterwards,” Mark tells him. “A – a reward, you know?”

Oh, fuck. The idea of that has Jackson all the more eager to follow through with whatever Mark says. Not just because he’ll be getting to see Mark, but the concept of a reward, knowing he’s done well… god. It’s all too appealing. It’s everything.

“Please,” he finds himself saying, eyes not moving from his reflection. “Anything. I’ll do whatever you want, hyung, fuck.”

“Just keep touching yourself for me, yeah? Keep making yourself feel good. You deserve it. Deserve anything you want.”

“I want your hands on me,” Jackson says, can’t stop himself from saying. “And your mouth, and – fuck. Your cock, I want your cock.”

“Fuck,” Mark breathes, low and ragged and the sexiest thing Jackson swears he’ll ever hear through his phone. “Fuck, yeah. What then, babe? What would you want me to actually do?”

“I said, anything.” Jackson works his own dick harder, faster, precome leaking down from the tip to where his fingers are closed around the length. “You could let me touch you, or – or you could get inside me. My mouth. My ass. Let you fuck either. Let you come in either. Or on me. On my face, wherever. I don’t care. Just want you.”

“Just want you, too,” Mark tells him. “You could have that now – could get your fingers all slick and open yourself up. Get three of them deep inside you. Pretend – pretend it’s me.”

“Oh, god.” Thinking about it’s almost too much; Jackson’s torn. He doesn’t want to move his hand from his cock, can’t be bothered to find the lube that’s either in his bedside table drawer or still in his suitcase, but if Mark wants him to, he will. “Should I? Should I do that now?”

“No, don’t worry – you’re too close already, right? You would if I asked you to, though, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah.” It’s the truth. It’s what matters. All Jackson can do is agree, is let Mark know that he’s right.

“You would,” Mark repeats. There’s an almost awed sounding edge to his voice, something Jackson wants to trap and keep and think about forever. “What would you do for me again? Tell me.”

“Ride my fingers for you,” Jackson says, breathless. He can’t even begin to imagine how he must sound to Mark on the other end of the call. “Pretend they’re your cock inside me. Fuck, _Mark.”_

“That’s it.” Jackson can hear the sound of skin on skin, Mark’s hand on his own dick. “You’d look so good doing that. Sound so good as well. You sound so good _now.”_

“I’d sound even better, though. Something inside me. _You_ inside me. Wanna be the best for you.”

“You are,” Mark tells him, the sureness in the words coupled with the groan that follows taking Jackson even closer, somehow doing just as much for him as the hand on his dick. “You are the best for me.”

Fuck. Jackson has to actually bite down on his lip, because the moan that wants to come out is _loud._ Something close to a low whine still escapes despite it, and god, Jackson’s getting close now. He can feel it.

And, over five hundred miles away, he knows that Mark can tell, too. Knows that Mark can tell he’s almost there from the sounds he’s making, from something as simple as the way he’s breathing.

“You sound so good,” Mark says again. “So fucking good, Jackson, god.” He doesn’t stop there: actually keeps talking, seeming to understand what Jackson wants, that he wants Mark’s words, that he wants to be told how good he is. Jackson lets it all blur into one and hangs onto every word all at once. The movement of his hand on his cock is less steady now, more desperate. He wants to come, wants it with Mark’s voice sweet and smooth in his ears. Maybe sometime he’ll save it until Mark lets him, until Mark tells him he deserves it, but that time isn’t now. Now, Jackson gives his cock a few more jerks, all it takes for him to come, practically hurtling towards his orgasm. He groans, and he hears the way Mark inhales sharply at the sound, the way Mark curses under his breath when Jackson says his name.

“Mark,” Jackson repeats, because yeah, that’s getting Mark closer. Because he wants Mark to come as well, wants to hear him and spur him on and wants so badly to _see_ him, except that last part isn’t possible right now, so he’ll just have to settle for the first two.

Mark isn’t as loud as he is – just as is true in all aspects of life – but it’s still obvious when he comes, when what he’s saying becomes unintelligible, when it seems like Jackson’s name is all he can manage. Jackson still hasn’t stopped tugging at his own dick; he’s almost overstimulated. When Mark finally takes a deep, shuddery breath – when Jackson can be totally sure that he came – Jackson lets go, moving his hand away, relieved. His heart’s still hammering away in his chest, even as his breathing’s started to even out. Mark can probably hear him panting into the phone.

“Uh.” Mark sounds dazed, like he isn’t quite sure what to think, like his reaction depends on Jackson’s. “So. How was that?”

There’s only one correct answer, really.

“So good,” Jackson tells him. “You know. Like you said.”

Mark makes a pleased sounding noise, like a smile turned audible.

“Yeah,” he says. “I thought so, too.” A pause, one from which it’s clear that Mark isn’t done yet. Where Jackson would usually be impatient, he waits for Mark to speak again. “We should… you know. Actually talk about this properly sometime. Because I’d do it again for sure, but I don’t wanna like, do something you’re not ready for because we haven’t discussed it enough. Especially if we’re apart like this and I can’t physically be there to… I don’t know. Hold you? Take care of you?”

“Yeah,” Jackson agrees. As much as he absolutely knows he wants to try more of this, wants to try more _than_ this, that sounds – important. He _knows_ Mark cares about him, but it means a lot that he cares this much. That Mark wants to be able to take care of him, whatever that would entail. On the other end of the phone, Mark yawns: Jackson vaguely remembers that Mark’s an hour ahead of him. “Get some sleep.”

 _“You_ get some sleep,” Mark tells him. “You’re the one who’s been busy all day.”

“I guess,” says Jackson. “I love you, yeah? Miss you.”

“Miss you,” Mark echoes. “Love you, too. Now goodnight, OK?”

“OK,” Jackson says, soft. “Goodnight.” He hangs up, then unplugs his earphones and sets them on the nightstand before grabbing a tissue to wipe himself clean with.

In the time it takes for him to clean himself up, move his clothes from the bed, and chuck the tissue away afterwards, his phone screen lights up again: Mark’s sent him a photo. A text that reads _just as I promised_ accompanies it.

Only the bottom half of his face is visible in the photo, and he’s grinning, biting his lip. Holding his still hard cock in his hand so it’s in view, streaks of come on his fingers, his stomach. Jackson’s doing. If he hadn’t just got off, it would turn him on so much. Unbelievably, unbearably so.

That can wait, though. That can wait until Jackson’s feeling lonely and Mark isn’t available to talk, and then the next time they see each other or get off over the phone – whichever comes first – he can tell Mark exactly what the picture makes him want. Might even be able to show him if they’re seeing each other in person and they’ve got the time.

For now, he figures he owes Mark a photo in return. Maybe not one that’s quite so – well. He can’t say suggestive, because the one Mark sent him was far past that, but a photo nonetheless. Jackson turns over so he’s lying on his front and opens the camera app on his phone. The lighting’s soft and warm, and his chin’s resting in the hand that isn’t holding his phone to take the picture. It’s the kind of photo he might sometimes upload to Weibo or Instagram, except this one is only for Mark to see.

He takes a couple and sends his favourite after choosing a filter, and then sets his phone aside to charge before switching off the light. The sheets feel soft and fresh once he’s underneath the duvet, and like this – knowing Mark loves him and cares for him, knowing he’ll wake up to a response to his photo in the morning, knowing that Mark wants to do this again, knowing that it won’t be just a matter of Mark indulging him because Mark wants it as well – Jackson sleeps peacefully.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading, everyone - you can also reach me on tumblr @ vibetechs!!


End file.
